


The Heir's Journal

by red_berin



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-10-13 05:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17481989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_berin/pseuds/red_berin
Summary: Reclaiming a land twisted with evil isn't a task for the lighthearted. It is a hero's task, and several contenders want to take it on. Join these hopefuls in a collection of short stories/chapters that chronicle their quest against the darkness.





	1. The Old Road - Crusader and Highwayman

The squeaking of wooden wheels, the clanking of metallic clips, and the clopping of hooves were the only sounds to be heard inside the stagecoach. There were three people inside, but two of them didn’t have the inclination for small talk, and the third had faded into silence when the others didn’t uphold the conversation.

Reynauld had been the talkative one. Now he sat quietly with one hand resting on his hilt. The other was on the narrow window frame, and his helmet lay at his feet. He had yet to wear it since beginning the trip, and his dark beard and hair remained tidy. Dismas, the man next to Reynauld, propped his head on his hand. He kept his mouth covered with a scarf, possibly further discouraging Reynauld’s small talk. If Dismas’s companions were unnerved by the rumors surrounding him, he either didn’t notice or didn’t acknowledge them.

The third passenger, Lucy, was the reason they were all together. She wore a forest green dress and a brown belt around her waist. The sides of her brown hair were pulled back from her face, and the rest lay neatly down her back. She kept her hands folded in her lap and her stare out the same window as Reynauld.

The warm orange glow from the sunset didn’t falter or give any warning before the entire coach suddenly inclined upward. It fell back down and tilted left with several booming crunches. The party nearly toppled to the floor, falling out of the way of shattering glass. Reynauld and Dismas were instantly on their feet and out the door. They spotted the two horses galloping out of sight down the Old Road. The driver was nowhere to be seen. Only one wheel remained attached to the coach. One was in scattered pieces, and the other two had snapped off.

Dismas put a gloved hand over his mouth in thought. “Well,” he said after a moment, “this isn’t ideal.”

When Reynauld returned to the stagecoach door, Lucy was pulling herself out. He reached out his hand for her to take. “Miss, the horses and driver have fled, and we don’t have the tools to repair the coach. We have to finish our journey on foot, I’m afraid.”

“We’re close to the hamlet. It will not take us long to reach it,” Dismas lifted up a pair of cut reins.

“And how do you know that, Dismas?” Reynauld asked. “This road is overrun with brigands and bandits. They’re the only ones left who know it well.”

“I used to frequent it, yes,” Dismas retorted. “And I highly suggest you do not press forward without me.”

Any hopes that Reynauld had of confronting Dismas died instantly. “Yes,” he said slowly. “We should continue on before it gets too dark, then.”

The band abandoned the wagon and began their trek. Lucy pulled a torch from her pack and lit it, illuminating the trees and overgrown mushrooms with a flickering glow. “I hope the others don’t mind waiting a little longer for us,” she said.

“If we take too long, they’ll come back and look for us,” Reynauld said. “After all, you’re the reason we’re together.”

“Sh!”

Dismas stuck out a hand in front of Reynauld and Lucy. They waited like that for some time before he lowered his arm and continued without another word. Lucy held her hands to her chest, wringing them together. She continually scanned the sides of the road for any movement.

“Halt!”

A man donning leather armor and a green hood stepped out from behind a nearby tree. “Give me all of your valuables, and I might just let you live.” he growled. He pointed a sword at the group and gripped a dagger in his other hand.

Without a response, Dismas lunged forward and slashed at the bandit with a dagger that neither Reynauld nor Lucy had seen him unsheathe. The bandit grasped at his shoulder, removed his hand, and observed blood.

Reynauld quickly put his helmet on and unsheathed his own sword, but the bandit struck. He sliced with his sword and stabbed with his dagger. Dismas, Reynauld, and Lucy managed to jump back out his reach. Reynauld smashed the hilt of his sword onto the bandit’s forehead. The bandit staggered backwards, reeling from the blow.

“Now, Dismas!” Reynauld shouted. But Dismas had already darted forward and drove the dagger into the bandit for a killing strike.

Dismas continued forward, pulling a cloth from his jacket pocket and wiping the blood from his dagger. Reynauld and Lucy exchanged a swift glance before following.

Lucy kept the torch as bright as she could. The sunset was fading now, and she didn’t want any more bandits ambushing them in the dark. Soon, a dim light became visible further down the road. “Look,” Lucy said, pointing at it. “Do you think that’s the others?”

“We can hope,” Reynauld said.

As they moved closer, a large, hulking form started to take shape. No one from the other coach had looked like that. The three stopped, watching the form. It stayed stationary in the light. “Let’s go,” said Dismas. “We’ll have to face it if we want to reach the hamlet.”

The shape was a man who stood taller than all of them. He made no attempt to conceal the cat o’ nine tails he held in one hand, or the gun in the other. A second form appeared behind the first man. This man was smaller, but he was aiming a blunderbuss directly at them.

“You must be the party from the stagecoach,” the larger man said.

“Word gets around, doesn’t it?” Dismas muttered.

Reynauld stepped up to the man so that he was squarely in front of him. “Let us through, and we will not harm you.”

“But we heard the heiress was coming,” the shorter man spoke up. “Her family owes us some money, and we’re here to collect.”

Subconsciously, Lucy took a step behind Reynauld and Dismas. Reynauld tightened his grip on his sword and held it up. “I will ask you one last time. Let us –”

A loud crack cut Reynauld off, and the big man flinched. Dismas lowered his smoking gun slightly to say, “Enough talk, Reynauld. The bandits have no sense of nobility.”

A trail of blood streamed out of the large man’s right shoulder. He glanced at it before he raised his whip and dashed forward, swinging the whip down upon Dismas and Reynauld. The whip ends tore at them, ripping cloth and skin. Another shot sounded, and Dismas and Reynauld felt a bullet whiz past them.

They couldn’t reach the smaller man, so they retaliated against the big man. Reynauld drove his sword hilt upward into the bandit’s nose. He then sliced across the bandit’s barrel chest. Dismas stabbed with his dagger, not giving the man a chance to recover.

A shot echoed, but this one met its target. Reynauld staggered backwards. He looked down at his chest plate and the bullet-sized dent that it now donned. He hardly had time to react before he felt another bullet graze the side of his helmet.

Dismas thrust again with his dagger. Reynauld shook off the blows and slashed. Another bullet scraped Dismas’s shoulder.

The large brigand lifted his gun. He stared at Dismas and Reynauld, deciding on his target, before collapsing.

There was no time to celebrate. Dismas and Reynauld flanked the smaller bandit. He tried to land another shot. Reynauld ducked and a bullet flew over his shoulder. In a flurry of blades and one final shot, the second bandit fell backward onto the road.

A breathless Dismas managed to say, “That’s that. Let’s go.”

With the bandits dead, the party pressed forward. The road sloped gently downward. Another orange light came into view. A stone bridge separated them and the light. In a few cautious steps, the light gave shape to a covered wagon and a balding man leaning against it.

Lucy let out a relieved sigh. “They made it, then.”

“And so did we,” Reynauld said. “Now our true task begins.”

Dismas replied, “The ‘true task’ can wait until morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and thanks for reading! I haven't written and posted anything in over 3 years, but I have been really inspired by my first playthrough of Darkest Dungeon. This is my first time playing the game. I don't know the entire story because I'm trying to avoid spoilers. Still, the premise and the many different heroes are so interesting, and I just had to write something about it.
> 
> The chapters are going to be quests into the different regions and interactions that caught my eye. If you feel like it, I am really appreciate of feedback and constructive criticism. So again, thank you all for reading!


	2. The First of Many - Crusader, Highwayman, Plague Doctor, Vestal

Once-living bones rattled to the floor, motionless again. Reynauld lowered his sword and exhaled. He looked back at his three companions: the highwayman that had accompanied him on the Old Road and the two that arrived in the other stagecoach.

The question burned Reynauld’s mind. “Did the owner of the estate bring these unholy things to life?”

Only the crackling torch answered.

Reynauld stared at each person, praying that one of them could make sense of this for him. Arundel, the plague doctor, kept her emotions hidden behind her mask. Dismas wouldn’t meet Reynauld’s gaze. Only the vestal looked at him.

He stepped towards her, clinging to her attention. “Bordel, surely you think these things are abominations. Your priest would never –”

“We need to keep moving,” Dismas interrupted. “I’d rather us find them than have them find us.” He passed Reynauld, and Arundel followed without a word.

“Bordel?”

“He’s right. We should go.”

Reynauld squeezed his eyes shut. He let their footsteps get as far away as he dared before he sprinted after them.

“Your armor is going to let them all know we’re here,” Dismas remarked.

The armor did echo off the walls when Reynauld moved too quickly. He slowed his pace to match the others’. The walls, pillars, and labyrinthine corridors might have been something to see once. The years of misuse had not been kind to the tunnel network. The adventurers relied on the limited range of light from their torch.

Anything that lurked outside of the light could stay hidden behind a pillar and ambush them as they passed. No one knew if the living dead was smart enough to do that, but humans were supposed to be down here, too. The skeletons had one purpose. Their existence revolved around it. Humans, though, had their wits. Humans could strategize and attack when it was least expected.

Reynauld’s fears were especially magnified when the others would stop to investigate something. Arundel especially liked to take her time with any books they came across. She even stopped to experiment with an alchemy table that was surprisingly well-stocked. He didn’t try to imagine what concoctions Arundel attempted to make.

Although Reynauld was impatient with the others, the possibility of loot excited him. Sometimes the party would find abandoned packs, and he had to see what was inside. If he liked the prize enough, he’d keep it. After all, if the heiress didn’t know what was down here, she wouldn’t miss the loot he’d gathered for himself.

The ruins were sprawling, but the adventurers had managed to map a chunk of the twisting corridors and rooms. Aside from the couple of skeletons they had met when they arrived, there had been no other signs of life. They came up to another room and readied themselves to enter.

“Alright, I think this should be the last place we check. Lucy will want to see what we’ve come up with so far, and we didn’t bring enough supplies for a longer venture,” Reynauld stated.

“I can agree with that,” Dismas said. Arundel and Bordel didn’t have any objections, so Reynauld pushed the door open.

The hinges squeaked in protest, and three figures greeted them. Two were skeletons: one was better equipped than the other. The third was a woman donning a red and black dress. The upper half of her face was covered by a gray helmet shaped like a skull. The helmet formed a halo over her head, making her appear taller than what she was.

Both skeletons charged forward. One slashed its sword at Arundel, and the other clubbed Dismas. Arundel grunted in pain and placed a hand on the wound. Dismas rebounded with a knife lunge at his attacker.

The masked woman raised her staff and said a few incomprehensible words. The adventurers all looked at each other in confusion. A black hole appeared in front of Bordel. A tentacle emerged from it and wrapped around her. She yelled in surprise as the tentacle yanked her towards the skeletons.

Thinking fast, Reynauld struck the same skeleton that Dismas had attacked. The bones collapsed to the floor in a pile. Arundel hurled a brown ball at the masked woman. The ball exploded in a burst of green smoke, leaving her coughing.

Vestal clutched the torch, mumbled a quick prayer, and then hoisted it above her head. The torch gave a brilliant flash of light, and the remaining skeleton flinched. It then remained motionless, staring at the torch. Dismas and Reynauld used the opportunity to crumple the skeleton.

The masked woman stood her ground. She pointed her staff at Reynauld and mumbled some more words. Black energy swirled around him before closing in. Reynauld lifted his sword in defense, but the energy disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. He felt a sense of unease. Just what were they dealing with?

As he lowered his sword, Arundel launched something else at the woman. This exploded into a sparkling flash of light, forcing the woman to cover her eyes. Dismas rushed forward, driving his dagger into the woman. Reynauld followed suit, slashing his sword down onto her. The woman fell and remained motionless.

Now with the time to do so, the group scanned the room. Cobwebs draped from the ceiling and a pile of rubble sat in one corner. There were two doors larger than any of them, but there didn’t look to be any handles on them.

“Nothing here,” Dismas said. “Let’s get back to the hamlet.”

* * * 

The walk back was uneventful. The moon illuminated a cloudless sky.  It seemed eerily quiet as the adventurers walked back into town.

“Lucy’s at the inn, right?” Arundel asked.

Reynauld answered, “That’s where she should be, yes.” He stayed back as the other three continued. “Wait. Bordel? Can I talk to you?”

She stopped. “You two go. We’ll catch up in a minute.”

As Dismas and Arundel walked out of earshot, Reynauld removed his helmet. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Bordel motioned toward the town’s statue. “Sure, let’s have a seat.” She lowered her hood and leaned back against the statue with a sigh. When Reynauld didn’t speak, she said, “That was something, wasn’t it? Skeletons that can walk and attack, cultists bringing more to –”

“How are you dealing with all this? Those things are unholy atrocities! And there are cultists creating more! This is the work of demons!” Reynauld bent forward and placed his hands on the back of his head. “This is sacrilege! We shouldn’t be here!”

Instinctively, Bordel placed a hand on Reynauld’s back. If he felt it there through his armor, he didn’t react. Her voice was soft. “Why are you here, Reynauld? Yes, Lucy is paying us, but that’s not the only reason you agreed to this.”

Still bent, Reynauld replied, “I have to do something right.”

“Surely you had heard about the condition of the estate.”

“I didn’t expect all of this.”

Bordel chuckled, “No, I don’t think any of us did. I doubt Lucy knew the results of her ancestor’s endeavors, or how bad things have gotten since his death.”

“This place is too far gone. There’s corruption everywhere, and we’ll only fall to it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Reynauld.”

He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She stood, took a few steps forward, and folded her arms over her chest. “I believe we’re here to bring the Light to this evil land. We will not fail so long as we serve the Light.”

I’m not so sure that the Light and I see completely eye-to-eye these days.”

“I don’t think it’s happy with me either right now. Getting kicked out of the convent isn’t really a way to earn the Light’s favor, is it?”

At this, Reynauld dropped his hands to his sides and looked directly at Bordel. “You got kicked out –”

“That’s a story for another time.” Bordel turned around to face Reynauld. “But I’m trying to do something right, too. Maybe this is how I can do it.”

Reynauld lifted himself off the ground. “Let’s go tell Lucy about our venture.”

“Dismas and Arundel probably told her already.”

Reynauld held out his hand for Bordel to take. “The barkeeper reopened for our arrival. Dismas and Arundel might not have made it past the bar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait for this one! Kingdom Hearts 3 came out, and that's all I focused on for a while. Thanks so much for reading!


	3. Death's Door - Crusader, Highwayman, Hellion, Grave Robber

The first foray into the ruins had gone so well for the adventurers that their confidence overflowed into the next expedition. The news of their endeavors was also spreading, and it attracted others. Some had come to see the condition of the esteemed estate, some had come to prove themselves, and others had come to do both.

Lucy selected ones that she believed brought something new for the others. Three people had arrived during the second week: Pistres, Mesnage, and Froissart. Pistres claimed to have immediately left his crew of bandits when he heard the estate was occupied again. Mesnage carried her weapon, a glaive, as if it was a walking stick. She kept her hair pulled back. Froissart looked overprepared compared to the other two. She carried a shovel on her back, a pickaxe at one hip, and knives on the other. She also had a vial of green liquid that she referred to only as her “special recipe.”

When it was time to pick the next team for another ruins venture, Arundel informed Lucy that she would instead be spending time to ensure the brothel would be a place worthy for the adventurers. Bordel wanted to go back, but Lucy didn’t want to overwork the healer. Reynauld eagerly volunteered himself. Dismas also volunteered, claiming that he had to be a buffer between Reynauld and the newcomers. They’d either die from hearing Reynauld talk so much, or they’d flee and never be seen again.

So Reynauld and Dismas accompanied Mesnage and Froissart on their first journey into the ruins. Although Reynauld and Dismas had only been down once before, they moved and acted as though they had done this hundreds of times. Mesnage put on the same airs, but it was unclear whether she was copying Reynauld and Dismas or if that was her personality. Froissart was the only one not brimming with confidence. She showed no signs of fear, either. In fact, she didn’t show any signs of feeling anything.

Some skeletons greeted the party when they entered the ruins. They fell quickly to some gunshots and weapon slicing. There were a few interesting things to investigate here and there. Lucy would certainly appreciate the heirlooms they found.

Reynauld pulled open a creaking door that led inside a chamber. Their torch illuminated a musty room lined with bookshelves. A fireplace that looked as if it hadn’t been used in years was directly across from the door. Even more books were piled on top of it. Two decrepit armchairs had been angled in front of the fireplace. It all might have been a picturesque scene once.

“This looks like a fine place to rest.” Dismas fell sideways into the nearest chair, stretching his legs over one of the arms.  He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned backwards, closing his eyes with a sigh.

“Now’s not the time, Dismas. We – ” Reynauld trailed off as Mesnage sat in the other chair.

She noticed his dumbfounded stare. “What? We won’t be our best if we push ourselves to exhaustion.”

Froissart leaned against Mesnage’s chair. “I need to make sure my recipe is at its full potency anyways. Wouldn’t want to leave anyone disappointed.”

“Fine!” Reynauld rolled his eyes. He stepped over to the fireplace, leaned against it, and crossed his arms. Something in the opposite corner caught his eye. He squinted for a better look. “What is that?”

A crack sounded in answer. Reynauld ducked. He shut his eyes tight, but no pain came. Instead, Froissart cried out, and the color drained from his face.

Dismas and Mesnage had dropped to the ground at the sound of the gunshot, but now they both took to offense. Dismas fired a return shot, and Mesnage lunged forward with her glaive.

Reynauld focused on Froissart. She had fallen to her knees and was attempting to steady her breathing. “Where is it?” he asked.

“My back,” she gasped.

He knelt behind her to get a better look. He knew basic wound care, but was sure he wouldn’t be much help. Without Bordel, Froissart wouldn’t get proper help down in the ruins.

“REYNAULD!”

Reynauld looked up at Dismas’s shout to see the barrel of a flintlock pistol. He grabbed Froissart and dove to the side. The bullet flew past them, right where Reynauld’s head had been a moment before. In one swift movement, Froissart used her free arm to grab a dagger from her belt and throw it into the bandit’s chest.

As Froissart reached for another dagger, two hands seized Reynauld and threw him onto his back. He covered his face with his arms, and a rain of whips landed on his vambraces.

Mesnage let out a deafening shout, catching the bloodletter off guard. His whips eased off Reynauld. Dismas took the opening and fired at the bandit’s head. The bullet whizzed past the bandit, and Dismas clicked his tongue.

As the bandit regained his senses, Mesnage locked her arms under Froissart’s and pulled her to her feet. Reynauld scrambled up and finally had the chance to draw his sword. “We need to get out of here!” he shouted. He took a defensive stance as Mesnage pulled Froissart past him and towards the door. Dismas fired another shot at the large bandit, successfully hitting his chest this time.

The smaller bandit, using an armchair as cover, fired at the retreating crew. Froissart shrieked as the bullet tore into her shoulder. The other bandit fired, scraping the side of Reynauld’s arm. As soon as Mesnage dragged Froissart through the door, Dismas and Reynauld followed and slammed it shut. They launched their bodies against it, feeling the bandits do the same. Mesnage grabbed a nearby wooden beam and shoved it through the two rings on the door.

“Come on!” she commanded. “That won’t hold them long!”

Dismas and Reynauld picked up Froissart between them, putting her arms around their shoulders.

“Wait!” Her voice was quiet. “Someone grab my hat.” It had fallen in the commotion.

Reynauld exhaled in disbelief, and Dismas chuckled. Mesnage grabbed the hat and put in on her own head. “You’ve got your priorities figured out, haven’t you?” she asked.

They heard the wooden beam crack behind them. “Let’s move,” Reynauld said.

* * * 

The tavern door banged open. The handful of people inside looked up as Mesnage, still wearing the hat, stormed in. She led Reynauld and Dismas who dragged a nearly unconscious Froissart. Lucy jumped to her feet, sending her chair to the floor. “Froissart!”

“Find Bordel,” Dismas commanded as he rushed past.

Lucy sprinted outside as the crew hurried to the back of the tavern and up a flight of stairs to the brothel. Mesnage wrenched open the first door, and Dismas and Reynauld lifted Froissart onto the bed. “We’d best get that coat off her.” Reynauld propped Froissart up. Dismas and Mesnage managed to remove Froissart’s various equipment, setting her secret recipe and variety of weapons on the bedside table. They draped her coat over a chair, revealing her bloodstained undershirt.

Reynauld gingerly rolled Froissart onto her side. Maybe it was because they could only wait now, but Froissart’s breaths seemed louder and more ragged.

Lucy’s voice preceded her and Bordel. “I’m so sorry, I should never have let them go without a healer.”

“Apologies do nothing now. What’s done is done.” Bordel appeared in the doorframe. “Now to see if we can fix it and do better.” She knelt at the bedside with a book in one hand and the other raised. Her quiet prayer filled the room while the others waited. There was a golden flash and a sigh from Froissart.

Froissart’s tangled mess of brown hair moved slightly. “Where’s my hat?” she muttered. A wave of relief washed over the room.

Grinning, Mesnage pulled the hat off and placed it on the bed next to Froissart. “Right here, my friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a little nervous about writing out this kind of scene, but it does happen a lot in Darkest Dungeon. I'm basing these chapters off of things that really happened in my own playthrough, and it's fun to write out the suspense I felt while playing.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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